I have the tendency to forget I had Lily (and maybe James) write in journals and that Harry had read them. Not that they really play a big role anymore, but still (I also can't remember if I stated this before, but it's relevant either way)

"So," Harry said in a strained voice, "your cousin is out and about again."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yes. Fucking great."

"Hush, Sirius," Remus said, touching his shoulder. "We'll deal with her when we see her." He turned back to Harry. "Any other news? Preferably good?"

"Fred and I are going to Hogsmeade," Harry offered, chuckling when Sirius scrambled into a sitting position, forgetting about Bellatrix in an instant.

"And when's that?" he demanded, eyes bright.

"Valentine's Day."

Sirius let out his bark-like laugh. "Brilliant! Remember when we went on our first date?" he said to Remus, whose face went pink.

"How did it go?" Harry asked.

"We went into Madam Puddifoot's, a tea shop where couples tend to go. And then we started snogging like there was no tomorrow," Remus said.

"You started snogging me like there was no tomorrow," Sirius corrected him, and Remus hid his face.

Harry whistled. "Go, Moony."

"We can give you some tips," Sirius said, and Harry blanched.

"No, thank you," he said, waving his arms.

"Aw, come on, pup! It's not that bad."

And then, to Harry's horror, Sirius grabbed a hold of Remus and began leaving kisses all over his face and neck.

"Sirius," Remus said between kisses, "I don't think... scarring our son further... is going to help him..."

But he was pulling Sirius into his lap as he spoke and Harry said loudly, "I'm gonna go... brush my teeth. Yeah, because I haven't already. And— and I need to."

Neither adult seemed to have heard.

"Night!" Harry said, still in a loud voice, and shut the mirror.

On the other side, Remus groaned. "Let's hope he can still look Fred in the eye tomorrow."

No, Harry could definitely look Fred in the eye the next day. He wasn't affected at all by his parents' antics. Nope, he was perfectly—

"Harry!"

— not fine. Harry's face promptly went red and he veered away sharply, dragging a confused Luna along.

Fred and George exchanged bemused looks.

"What the—?"

"I have no idea," Fred said.

Harry later gave a vague explanation, to which Fred burst out laughing.

Time seemed to go by in a blur and before Harry knew it, it was the fourteenth of February. He got dressed and headed out to the Entrance Hall, where a queue had formed in front of Filch.

Fred joined him a moment later. "Hi."

"Hi." Unobtrusively, the memory of Sirius and Remus snogging flickered in Harry's mind and he pushed it away.

They walked in silence for a bit. As they passed the Quidditch stadium, Harry said, "Remember when you and George gave me a lesson on a broomstick?"

Fred smiled. "Yeah. You fell for me that day. Twice."

Harry shrugged, feeling warm. "Yeah, well, you were staring at my arse when I was bowing down to Buckbeak."

"It's a pretty arse," Fred said in defense.

A group of Slytherin girls, led by Pansy Parkinson, walked by.

"Potter and Weasley!" she screeched. "I bet you're relying on Potter to pay for everything, aren't you, Weasley?"

Fred stopped short, giving them an icy stare as they walked off.

"Where do you want to go?" Harry asked in an attempt to distract him.

"We can look at the shops," Fred decided.

But that turned out to be a bad idea when they realized every shop had posters of the escaped Death Eaters on them.

Rain began to fall, so they headed inside Madam Puddifoot's for coffee. Harry noticed that everyone around them were in pairs, couples holding hands, and wondered if he should be doing that with Fred. He wished he had asked Remus and Sirius for advice, although he would have had to ask for something that did not involve snogging!

Before he could decide, Madam Puddifoot came over. "What can I get you, m'dears?"

"Two coffees, please," Fred said.

As they waited for their coffees, Roger Davies, who was sitting at the next table, began kissing his girlfriend.

"You remember that time you went into the hospital wing after the Quidditch game?" Fred said.

Harry had to think for a moment. "Oh, yeah. The dementors had gotten to me. And you stole my chocolate."

"I wanted to steal a kiss, too, but George interrupted us."

"God damn it, George," Harry muttered, and Fred chuckled.

Their coffees arrived. Harry took a sip, wondering what to say now.

"How's your business with George going?" he got out.

"Pretty well," said Fred, who seemed equally uncertain as to what to talk about. "Hermione doesn't like it."

Silence fell once more. The cherub over their heads threw pink confetti down on them. Some it landed in Fred's hair, and Harry almost reached over to brush it out.

Fred's eyes moved to Roger Davies and his girlfriend, both of whom were still kissing.

"I never thought you'd actually like me," he said. "I mean, what they say is true; you could have had anyone."

"Well, I don't want anyone," Harry replied. "I just want you."

Fred turned his gaze on him. There was an intensity Harry had never seen in them before as he moved closer. Then Fred's lips were on his.

Something was different about this kiss. It was more intimate than Harry remembered. He wasn't complaining, though, and, in a daring move, maneuvered out of his chair and into Fred's lap.

Am I doing this right? he wondered worriedly. Considering Fred hadn't made a remark, Harry guessed he was.

"There you are, Har— oh!"

Luna's startled squeak made Harry break away from Fred. Her eyes looked like they were popping out of her skull as she regarded Harry. "I interrupted something, didn't I?" she said with uncharacteristic sheepishness.

"No," Harry said, feeling an equally uncharacteristic stab of annoyance. He pushed it away. "What's up?"

Luna's eyes flickered to Fred's hands, one of which was very low on Harry's back. He moved it quickly.

She stammered, "Well, you know how everyone is denying You-Know-Who's return?"

"No, I had no idea."

Luna went on, unperturbed by his sarcasm. "Follow me."

Harry exchanged a mystified glance with Fred, who shrugged, and did as he was told.

Luna led them to the Three Broomsticks. To their surprise, Rita Skeeter was sitting at a table alone. Harry hadn't seen her since Remus had caught her, but he knew Remus had gone to the Ministry and turned her in. With the revelation of Rita's unregistered Animagus form, she had been charged and fired.

No one else would give her a job, but Luna had convinced her father to hire her for The Quibbler. Rita, like most of the wizarding world, scorned the silliness of the articles they published, but she needed a job, even one that didn't pay as much, so she accepted.

"So, Luna, care to tell me what's going on?"

Luna sat down. "My dad thinks the Daily Prophet is an awful paper."

"He's not the only one," Fred said, shooting Rita a dark look.

Rita scowled back at him. "One of these days..."

"You'll write more horrible stories about Harry and me," Fred said snidely. "As if that's new."

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help," said Rita, shooting a sideways look at him over the top of her glass and adding in a rough whisper, "How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"Betrayal and distraught indicate that that I trusted them at one point," Harry retorted. "As for misunderstood, puh-lease. I've felt misunderstood since well before I came here. What I do feel is irritation," he added. "I had suggested giving my memories, but they wouldn't take them."

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He Who Must Not Be Named is back?" said Rita, lowering her glass and subjecting Harry to a piercing stare while her finger strayed longingly to the clasp of the crocodile bag. "You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?"

"I wasn't the sole witness," snarled Harry. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," breathed Rita, now fumbling in her bag once more and gazing at him as though he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. "A great bold headline: 'Potter Accuses...' A sub-heading, 'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us.' And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you, 'Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the wizarding community of being Death Eaters...'"

Here, Rita turned her gaze onto Luna. "But of course, Little Loony wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"A little slow on the uptake, aren't you?" Luna said, giving Rita a hard stare. "That's actually exactly what Little Loony wants. My daddy would love it."

"Of course he would," Rita sneered. "After all, if he believes in Crumpled-Horn Snorkacks, what wouldn't he believe?"

"We already hinted he doesn't like the Daily Prophet," Luna pointed out. She shrugged indifferently. "But if you're not willing, we can always find someone else to do this. I bet Daddy would pay quite a bit for this particular story."

"No, no," Rita said quickly. "I'll do it." The thought of being paid won her over very fast.

"Perfect. Harry, you ready?"

"I suppose so," Harry said, shooting an admirable glance at her.

Luna smiled, looking more like her normal dreamy self. "Let's do this."

Ooh, Harry, going for more intimate stuff? Regardless of whether he continues or not, you won't be seeing much (thank goodness if you ask me)